


(My Heart Is) Tripping Over You

by weallfalldowneventually



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mark is so endeared by him, Not Beta Read, Runner AU, We Die Like Men, cute first meetings, i finally wrote something with a happy ending!!, i mainly just write angst so this was new, i think it's pretty cute myself, i'm pretty proud of this, lowkey Ethan embarrasses himself a lot, oof!!, poor baby ethan is trying his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:10:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weallfalldowneventually/pseuds/weallfalldowneventually
Summary: Suddenly he sees two feet standing in front of him red running shoes, by the looks of it, covering them. Ha, the irony.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 15
Kudos: 228





	(My Heart Is) Tripping Over You

**Author's Note:**

> my first time writing i consider a cute fic!! my dudes any feedback is much appreciated, i'm trying to expand my horizons and get away from my angsty roots. let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions for me or a request. i'm working on one right now, but feel free to leave any of your own!! 
> 
> you guys are honestly the best, thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> (p.s I'm good awful at titles)

He's got this. Hell yeah, he's _fucking_ crushing it. Fuck. He feels like crying. 

He let's out a short wheeze, lungs burning just as hotly as his legs do.

Oh jesus, _what the fuck,_ is his calf _cramping?_

He uses what's left of his dwindling energy reserves to suppress a whine. Why did he ever think picking up running would be a good idea? 

He started off so strong, maybe that's where he went wrong. He's been slashed down from a strong and sturdy running pace to more of a fast, awkward shuffle. His feet barely leaving the ground. 

His head is bowed in shame, eyes downcast but unseeing, blurring from the sweat pouring off of him. His shirt is stained with it, sticking uncomfortably to his damp skin. His hair is matted to his forehead, annoyingly so, god, every small thing is getting under his skin today.

Maybe he's just in a bad mood. What happened to that good old runners high? 

What a bunch of bullshit, just complete and utter garbage. Before he knows it, his tired shuffling screws him over, one of his feet getting caught by an unleveled strip of cement. He feels himself falling, he tries his best to adjust his footing, tries desperately to save himself. 

It doesn't work. He tumbles to the ground, his knees and palms taking the brunt of the abuse, scraping painfully against loose pebbles and rocks. He's not sure what hurts more, his extremities or his pride. 

He let's himself twist his body, resting on the edge of his hip, as he looks at his hands. They're skinned and bloody, pearls of it dripping from the rips of his palms. He doesn't even want to look at his knees. 

"Hey, shit, I saw you go down. Are you alright, man?" Ethan winces at the sound of an attractive voice, deep and rich in timber. A blush is already forming on his cheeks, embarrassment flooding his system.

"Y-Yeah, I'm good, don't worry!" He weakly calls out, refusing to make eye contact with whoever saw him take that tumble. Nope. Not gonna happen. He hopes that the man will just continue on. 

Suddenly he sees two feet standing in front of him red running shoes, by the looks of it, covering them. Ha, the irony. 

"No, seriously man, let me take a look." His eyes flutter up to the source of the voice this time, the volume of it coming closer to him. Before he knows it there's a man kneeling before him, arm reached out hesitantly. 

Fuck, he's _hot_.

There's a slight, attractive sheen of sweat glistening from his tan skin. His brown eyes are warm with worry, brows slightly pinched together as he waits for Ethan to place his hand in his own. 

His jaw is strong and covered in just the right amount of delectable stubble. Ethan's never been one for facial hair, but good god could this man pull it off well. 

A friendly smile pulls at the man's lips and, wow, they're both pretty and pink. There's a pleasant, yet surprising buzzing in his stomach. This is one beautiful man before him.

He feels light-headed. 

He timidly reaches out, gently placing the back of his hand onto top of the man's larger palm. The warmth seeping through brings a slight blush to his face. Or, more accurately, it simply darkens the rosey color of his cheeks. 

The man _tsk's_ softly to himself. 

"This looks like it hurts," he let's go of Ethan's palms, eyes skimming over to his other hand that he holds close to his. "I'm guessing the other one looks like this," he gestures to Ethan's exposed injuries. 

"Uh, yeah, they're both pretty scraped up." He answers lamely, voice trailing off as he avoids eye contact. He hears a soft laugh come from the man before him.

"Your knees must be in rough shape too. Here," he's moving from his crouched position to stand on his feet, fingers circling around Ethan's wrist as he goes. "Let me help you up and over to that bench." He watches the man point to a rather close bench, nicely shaded by a large tree. 

Ethan nods numbly, letting this man pull him to his feet. His knees scream in protest, skin pulling painfully with the stretch. Fuck, they're already starting to ache. 

They make their way over to the bench, Ethan suppressing every little whimper that wants to escape. He let's him guide him to a sitting position, kneeling once more in front of him to examine his bloody knees. 

"Okay, there's a little market just down the way, I'm gonna run over to it, grab some rubbing alcohol," he pauses held tilting, considering. "Some antibiotic ointment and some bandaids should do in the meantime too, nothing too crazy." He grins, eyes crinkling the slightest bit. 

"You really don't have to, it's fine." Ethan adds weakly, his poor little heart can't take this man's kindness, guilt creeping up. "I don't have my wallet on me, I don't have any money."

The man stands, waving his hand, "No problem, man, I got mine, it's cool. Just sit there and I'll be back in a few minutes!" With that he takes off in a light jog down the street. Ethan takes a moment to really appreciate the man's physique.

He has broad shoulders, strong looking arms, his biceps bulging slightly against the red t-shirt he wears. The shorts he's wearing show off well muscled calf's, the taut skin there leads a path up to what looks to be thick thighs. His stomach coils painfully, he's never been more attracted to a person in his _life_.

Holy shit.

He let's out a quite, almost defeated, sigh. Ever since he quit gymnastics his overall fitness has severely declined, he still looked good, he knew that, objectively speaking at least. No, his physical state wasn't what got him to start running again, but rather his difficult trip up his apartment stairs. He was just on the 3rd floor, it shouldn't have been that hard, but he had quickly found his chest burning, his legs turning soft and wobbly under the strain. 

It was embarrassing to say the least. 

Of course, it was just his luck to thoroughly embarrass himself in front of such an attractive man. An attractive, physically fit man that was. He let's out a groan, dropping his hands into his palms, momentarily forgetting the scrapes there. 

He hisses, when his forehead comes into contact with his open wounds, jolting upright. 

He doesn't hear the approaching footsteps, to busy letting himself dwell in self pity as he stares at his treacherous hands. A throat clearing is what brings him back to the present moment, a plastic bag shuffling close to his right ear. 

His eyes slowly trek upwards, pausing unintentionally on a sculpted chest. He slowly realizes where he's starring, eyes snapping upwards to meet amused eyes and a playful smirk. 

"Here, I got everything I need," he rattles the bag slightly, letting everything jostle about. He goes to kneel in front of Ethan once more, seemingly making himself comfortable and placing the bag next to Ethan. 

"Well, almost everything. They were fresh out of sexy nurse costumes though," he says this so naturally, all the while giving a small shake of his head. "It's a real shame, I would have looked good in it, too." He gives a flirtatious wink that sends Ethan's mind into a spiral of absolute panic.

Is this adonis of a man flirting with him? While he looks like this? Sweaty and injured? Two thoughts filter in his mind on loop.

_Don't hyperventilate. Don't pass out._

Okay, maybe three thoughts, because, _what the fuck_ does he say to that?

He gives a nervous laugh, trying his hardest to will his burning blush away. He's afraid the pink on his face might be permanently stained there now. He let's his eyes wander down to the bag the stranger is holding. Is he a stranger? I mean, they've been talking now, this man just bought supplies to bandage him up. 

He doesn't even know his name. 

"What's your name?" He blurts out, ears burning alongside his cheeks. The man pauses digging through the bag to give him a friendly smile, his pearly white teeth on display. 

"Oh yeah! Sorry about that, my name's Mark!" He goes to offer his hand before pausing eyes drifting to Ethan's hands. He let's out a little breathy laugh, "I'd offer my hand, but I don't think you'd appreciate that very much right now."

He let's himself laugh gently at that, it's cautious in nature, slightly self conscious about his laugh. "Now's not really the best time for me." He shows Mark his hand, in a placating gesture, a somber look taking over his features, but his eyes retain their amusement. Mark grins, opening the bottle of peroxide he got.

"I was gonna get rubbing alcohol, but this burns less and does about the same thing." Ethan knows from personal experience that that shit still burns, but he keeps that to himself.

He let's himself relax slightly, there's a playful lilt to his lips as he overtly bats his eye lashes, "Oh, my hero." He pretends to swoon, laughing a little louder when he sees the man's bright smile, it makes him a little bolder. "You sure your names Mark? Are you positive it's not prince charming?"

The slight sting to his palm is nothing in the wake of the man's slight blush. He watches the way he plays it off, puffing out his chest and adorning a new voice when he speaks. "Ah, I've been figured out too soon!" He cries, hand grasping the unattended hand. Giving it the same treatment. "I was hoping I'd still have longer to woo you before you found out!"

He waggles his eyebrows, which makes Ethan snort at that, letting the man carefully spread the ointment around his wounded hands. He watches as Mark deligently and delicately places the bandages on next. He moves on to his knees afterwards, a comfortable silence falling between the two. 

He watches the way Mark works, watches the way he pokes his tongue out in concentration. He witness first hand how his eyes light up as he realizes the perfect placement for the bandages on his knees. 

"All done," Mark grins, patting just above his left knee, before he stands, stretching out his back. 

"What, no kiss to make it better?" Ethan swears his heart stops, blood draining from his face, fuck him and his lack of impulse control. He cringes internally, brain nearly shutting down. 

Thankfully, Mark barks out a laugh, nonplussed with Ethan's complete lack of any apparent filter. He goes to stutter out another joke, or another excuse, god, anything to try and redeem himself. 

His breath catches when Mark leans back down, grabbing his now covered hand and bringing it up to his lips. He presses a quick kiss to his knuckles, a blush on his cheeks but confidence shining clear in his eyes. He pulls back with a smirk. 

"Better?" 

Ethan nods, almost frantically, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Mark, pats the back of his hand, comfortingly. 

"Alright, I think you'll live to see another day," There's amusement lacing his words as he stares at Ethan, lips twitching upwards.

Ethan realizes he's been staring silently at Mark for longer than he probably should be and begins to panic. Mouth opening and closing a few times. 

"Let me pay you back, here let me give you my number." He quickly rips his hand out of Mark's soft grip, fumbling for his phone. He doesn't realize how that sounds until after, blushing furiously at his own bold words.

Mark laughs, throwing his head back and exposing his smooth neck. Fuck, dude, how is his neck even that muscled, Ethan thinks vaguely, mind not working properly.

Mark takes his own phone out, shaking his head with a fond, amused smile. "It really wasn't that big of a deal, but I'm still more than happy to take your number." 

Ethan scrambles quickly, trying to look for the right words and, also, trying to remain as calm as fucking possible. Because, fuck, this man actually wants his number. 

"Still, I feel the need to pay you back." He holds a bandaged palm up when Mark goes to speak again, giving him a solemn look, "For the sake of my pride." 

Mark gives a short chuckle at that, "Alright, anything for a man's pride." There's a cheeky grin curling the corners of his lips upwards, "I'll text you and we can set up a time where we can go out and get something to eat."

He starts walking backwards, leaving Ethan still sitting carefully on the bench. Ethan doesn't think his legs would hold him upright just yet. He's certainly not going to chance it, there's no way he's willing to risk falling a _second_ time in front of Mark.

There's a devious look in Mark's eyes, but a sweet innocence in his smile, it has Ethan squinting cautiously as Mark goes to speak, still slowly walking away.

"My treat," he says through a cheeky smile, shooting Ethan with two finger guns before turning around. It brings a bubble of easy laughter spilling from his mouth. 

"That's not how this works," he shouts to Mark's now retreating back, "I'm supposed to pay!" 

Mark turns partially back around, his smile genuine and sweet, "Your presence is payment enough," he gives Ethan a playful wink before he turns back forward. His confidence clear in his sure movements. 

What a cocky, good looking, little shit he is, Ethan thinks fondly.

He watches him walk away, heart fluttering almost painfully in his chest. 

Just as Mark goes to turn the corner, he stumbles, catching himself quickly and righting himself almost immediately. 

He's also a graceful little bastard. 

He sees the way Mark turns towards him, "You saw nothing!" Mark shouts back at him, from this distance he can vaguely make out the faint blush spreading prettily across his cheeks. 

Ethan's response is nothing less than a loud burst of laughter, his heart pounding beautifully along. It leaves a pleasant echoing in his ears. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you guys liked it. i just wanna say thanks again, i got so many comments on my last fic, you guys are so great, my little heart is so full!! thank you again!
> 
> comments are always appreciated, and once again, if you have a request feel free to send it my way!


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